


Conversations In the Dark

by tauntingcrow



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, a world like The Witcher but everything is set in a modern time, but kinda, casual bickering, detective Geralt, dr. Regis, geralt is not impressed, modern!AU, noir!AU, regis is being a sassy ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:58:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tauntingcrow/pseuds/tauntingcrow
Summary: Geralt comes home from another of his usually taxing contracts. Tired and kinda cranky, just like he always is.





	Conversations In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at something in the lines of fanfiction. I've been discussing this fic with a friend for a good while and I finally brazed myself and jutted down something(mostly to test whether or not I could handle the characters. So yeah, enjoy. *nervous laugh*
> 
> Thank you @Seherrons for joining me in this crazy and ridiculously fun adventure. You're tha bomb sweetheart! And a great thank you to dear @a_sparrows_fall for her beta and kind words, you really made me kick myself out of my doubt and actually finish this damn thing.

The tumbler clinked sharply as it was set back on its place near the counter. Files and documents lay scattered below and around, surrounding the fake crystal with subdued chaos. Liquid sloshed somewhat by the disturbance.

No light shone from the cold office space where the witcher sat, his chair whining at the heavy strain of his weight. He’d have to replace it one of these days, less the thing broke down on him while he spoke with a client. The lack of light didn’t bother him, it was night. No one would be coming over as far as he knew. Letting the space seem uninhabited would work in his favour, letting him get a moment of rest before the next day pulled him into the streets. Only the occasional slit of headlights from bypassing cars cut the darkness in half as it pried itself between closed shutters. The buzzing sound of lower city-life joining it as it came and went. It was never quiet here, not really. Always some kind of drumming, scraping or roaring echoing the life of the city, be it humans or monsters. They never shut up.

Leaning back in his chair, the witcher let out a subdued groan as bones cracked and leather creaked. The night was young, but he'd already had enough for the day. For the week really.

He sniffed the stale office air, picking up on the remnants of drowner-guts still clinging to his boots. He would have one hell of a time getting rid of that any day soon, might as well toss them and buy new ones. Though, they’d been a gift from Ciri, sentimental value and all that. He guessed they at least deserved an attempt at cleaning, if only to please his daughter. And perhaps use another pair next time he ventured into the sewers. Kicking the foul-smelling things off he reached back for his tumbler, aiming to quench his thirst and wash away the bitter taste of potions lingering in his throat.

"I take it your day has been rough?"

The voice startled the witcher, who was already swirling to grab his weapons. Always close by the movement fell smoothly. A flick of fingers, unhooking the cap. His wrist bending, lifting and deftly releasing the beautifully crafted piece of metal. The gun felt heavy in his palm, perfectly balanced. He aimed at the source of the voice, an ugly sneer plastering his face, half in anger, the other in mortification. The intruder had to have been there from before the witcher arrived. His nose so full of sewer and gut-stench he’d completely missed the herbal essence surrounding the vampire. He cursed himself. 

"Thought I told you to leave?" Speaking to the shadow sitting neatly in the sofa, looking nothing more than any client would, Geralt lowered the gun just enough to get a proper view of the creature. His usual white lab coat, common in the hospice, was replaced by a casual white shirt and a brown vest. The sleeves were rolled up to the end of his arms, alike what he did to his coat while working. The dark slacks would most probably be the same colour, if not a shade darker. With no light to study further, the witcher couldn’t tell.

The vampire crossed his legs while leaning back casually, resting his hands over each other on his chest. His greying hair was pulled back, beginning to reach a length where he’d either had to begin tying it up while working or cut it. It looked good on him. Though the man looked tired, sleep-deprived eyes staring at the witcher, he always managed to look presentable. Groomed to fit into a world he most definitively did not belong. Geralt had commended him for it. Somehow admiring the creature for being able to manage something he never had had the patience to attempt.

"You did. And I didn't." Regis’ voice was far too gentle for Geralt’s comfort, a subtle show of mirth crossing the man’s features. His eyes crinkled with his smile. It was making it difficult to forget their initial meetings, their first encounter, how he’d been surprised at how well they got along. He guessed, in the end, it must have had something to do with them both not being entirely human. Neither of them really belonging among this vast city of metal and gas. Geralt snorted.

"You're pretty thick-headed for a millennia old creature." He growled out, returning the warm smile with an ugly one.

"I have to admit, it surprised me." Regis confessed, studying his own fingers, picking on something beneath one of his nails. Claws, whatever they should be called. Made sense now, how his nails always seemed so freakishly sharp.

"What?" Not lowering his gun, loaded and filled to the brim with silver-rounds, Geralt dared sit back down in his chair. It left him vulnerable, but somehow, he doubted Regis would act on it. If he had wanted to, needed to, he would have disposed of him the moment the witcher found out. Regis lifted a brow inquisitively, following the witcher with the dark eyes. It was obvious Geralt was not the only on edge here, regardless of how composed the vampire seemed, Regis had made a gamble coming back. Geralt leant over, resting his elbows on his knees, gun still cocked at the surgeon.

"You.” Stating it all matter-of-factly. Regis leant forward as well, leaning closer to the detective. The smell hit Geralt’s nose, herbal essences mixing with the lingering stench from his prior contract. “Why did you let me go?"

"Not worth the coin." Geralt grit out between clenched teeth, nerves prickling along his neck, causing the hairs to rise. Regis’ eyebrows rose, whether it was genuine or teasingly was impossible to guess. Geralt had a sneaking suspicion of the latter, the vampire a perpetual tease whenever he felt like it.

"Oh? I imagine a higher vampire would catch quite the price had a contract been issued." The smooth voice rasped momentarily at the start. Yes, Regis was definitively teasing, if not flirting. Hard to tell when the black pitch in his eyes was a constant.

"... yes." Geralt replied simply, keeping his tone neutral.

A car honked somewhere in the distance, causing both men to slant their eyes towards the window. Light streaked past as the car drove on, leaving artful patterns before leaving the room in its original darkness. There’d be no visitors tonight, but the possibilities of a surprise visit from Dandelion or Zoltan never ceased. He knew Ciri was back in town, entertaining a friend or two with her return. She’d probably drop by in due time. But this night, the only creature gracing him with its presence, was the vampire. Regis turned his eyes back at the witcher, crows feet crinkling along with his gentle smile.

"Indulge me, witcher mine. How much would I be worth?" The tone in Regis’ voice struck Geralt with wanton embers. There’d be an eternity of convincing himself of just what that meant, of what his instincts were yelling, but he clamped it down. Hard. Instead, he reached for his glass, taking a slow mouthful while chewing on his reply. The liquid burned comfortably while traveling down the throat, a spicy warmth settling in his stomach. Regis waited patiently, lips turned upwards in anticipation for his answer. In that regard, nothing had changed, just as curious, just as interested in the witcher’s various quirks and habits. In their history as ancient monster-slayers, how they’d adapted to the growing world around them. How they had repurposed themselves for the people and creatures dwelling in their metal world.

"None would be able to afford it. Like I said, not worth the coin." Geralt tried to remain indifferent, but felt the tone of his voice cracking. Leaving a splinter of hurt rather than the seething anger he should be aiming at the vampire slip through. He had every right to. First losing Yen, followed by letting Triss down as gently as he could, not able to deal with the dramatics surging between the two sorceresses. He’d finally met an equal, a friend.

Someone who’d he, without realizing it, had begun enjoying the company of. Regardless of his unceasing and insistent banter of lectures. Endless monologues whenever a topic caught the surgeons’ attention. Geralt was positive he’d murder the man before too long, once realizing the man could talk more than Dandelion. But the urge never came. All in all, it let him fall into a comfortable quiet, merely listening to (or not), the man talking about the multitude of interests he had picked up along his travels. Geralt had found himself after some time, even entertaining the thought of something more. Crossing the safe space between them, shutting the surgeon up with a crush of lips, letting the man busy himself with something else than talking.

To put it mildly, Geralt was hurt, not because Regis was a vampire (that only adding to the issue of course), but because he had lied. Hidden away while Geralt had opened up, showing pieces of vulnerability, what haunted his night and mind. In turn, he had gotten Regis the doctor: the lie. He was tired of being lied to.

"So I heard." Regis pulled the witcher back to the present, eyes still locked on his.

"Why're you here, vampire?" Anger resumed its swelling, he wanted to wipe that smart smirk off his face. Molten lava boiled in his guts, he refused to think of it as anything else than hatred. Promptly ignoring Geralt’s grimacing face, Regis resumed talking. Mouth pouting in a telling way, like when he contemplated carefully how to word himself.

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself.” He let his hands fall forward, hunching over, closing more of their distance. Geralt leaned further back, Regis stopped in his movements, but looked none the wiser to the witcher’s glare. “I'd blame it on open curiosity. Perhaps boredom. It's been quite some time since, well... Someone didn't scream in terror as soon as they found me out. And I've never met a witcher before, much less spoken to one. I find you interesting, is what I'm trying to say. And-"

"I don't scream in terror for something I hunt daily," Geralt sneered, shooting him a vile smile over the edge of his tumbler. Returning in kind Regis smirked, moving back to return his elbows upon his knees, resting his jaw over the slender hands.

"You hunt higher vampires daily do you now?" The returned smile was dashing, mischievous. Eyes glinting with what could only look like playfulness.

"Maybe not your kind, but this part of the city buzzes with your lower brethren in adamant numbers..." Geralt tried to look indifferent to the vampire’s flirting. He felt he succeeded, somewhat.

"Not the same thing, my dear witcher." Regis tutted, looking disappointed in the statement.

"I don't like repeating myself. What do you want Regis?" Geralt growled, reminding him once again, of what lay heavy in his palm.

Giving the gun an indifferent look, lips turning into a thin line, the vampire stood up. Geralt did so in turn, carefully aligning himself so the desk could be flipped over, if need be. Honestly, he’d much rather be closer to the window, giving him a chance of jumping out if things turned sour.

"Hmm... As of right now, I'm not sure yet.” As he finished the sentence, the vampire dissipated, turning into an eerie mist of smoke. It trailed along the floor, towards the window. Slithering through the tiniest of gaps, it disappeared out into the night. Along with the familiar scent of wormwood and sage, the aroma Geralt had begun to affiliate with the departing man.

Geralt held his hand ready with a sign, but held off from casting. He'd been combating himself for days on why he hadn't. The whole scene of what had happened seeming so unreal and odd he'd just have to add it to the list over things he was getting too old for.

He was left alone. In the darkness of his office. Somehow it felt smaller now, cramped and claustrophobic.

Casting a last glance over the window, making sure Regis had indeed left, he stepped into his foul-smelling boots, deciding he'd rather spend the night at Dandelion’s pub rather than alone. Refitting the loosened shoulder holster, making sure it wouldn’t slide around while moving, he made for the door, picking up a packet of rounds on the way. He shut the door behind him, bringing a prepped duffel filled with the essentials of clothing, tools and ammunition. Dandelion would have to tolerate him borrowing his shower again, as his office didn’t have an available wardrobe.

Roach stood near the entrance of the alleyway. The motor roaring to life as soon as he stepped down the pedal. The metal shone its reflective black and silver in the nearby streetlights. Geralt rolled it towards the curb, the motor seeming eager to guzzle gasoline and burn its rubber.

As he drove out onto the main road he still had the uncanny feeling of being watched. Heeding the old man Vesemir’s words, Geralt never doubted his instincts, and had a pretty good guess as to who was staring at his back. He cursed as he sped up, leaving what most likely was a very curious and talkative vampire behind.

In the dark of the alley a low chuckle sounded, echoing mirth suppressed by a barely contained, toothy grin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a snippet based on, but not entirely a part of the more lengthier fic I'm planning for these two. If you enjoyed these two dolts in this setting I'll have you know both me and a dear friend is planning to write more <3 Next short (a something before I set out on the longer journey) will contain smut, you have been warned. <3
> 
> Thank you for reading, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it <3


End file.
